Comfortably Hard Compassion

“Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution. This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference. And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer.” - Henri Nouwen

Going on a month of being at Orange UMC as a student intern now, and it is a wonderful experience so far.  Perhaps my favorite part is doing visitation with families at their homes or in the hospital.  Now don't get me wrong - I do not like the fact that there are members of the church in the hospital or facing grief. But Nouwen outlines something mysterious and profound about compassion in this quote.  It is so true - when I see pain and suffering I want to fix it and find the elusive "all better" approach, but that just doesn't work.  Grief is far too big and deep and thick and messy to be wrapped up all nice and tidy in a box or covered over with a bandaid.

I have been really excited about being a student intern at my church this summer because the staff and members have always been so supportive, encouraging, and collaborative.  Since I am still discerning whether I want to serve in a local church or a hospital or both, this opportunity could not come at a better time.  From day one, I have felt welcomed as another member of the staff team here, and am learning a lot about myself, the church, and my understanding of God.

And I guess I kind of expected a lot of this - I expected to enjoy helping plan, prepare, and lead worship.  I expected to get the opportunity to live in to what life in full-time ministry looks like.  I expected to get to exercise my own personal, pastoral voice box and become more confident in it.  But I didn't expect just how much I would come to love the people in this church family - I mean like really love, deep-down where you feel it all the way in the pit of your stomach.  This is compassion - this is church - this is life in ministry - this is the resurrection.  It is all of these things - and it is also really really hard....but then again not hard at all.

It's not hard to love the people here because they are sweet and caring and beloved children of God.  But it is hard to love them in a way that is willing to go to those deeper places of life and ministry.  In those deep places, walls come down, masks come off, and we are faced with the full realities of our humanity and the reality of pain.  Even though I don't claim to speak for everyone, I just don't think it's in our human nature to like this feeling. So, like Nouwen suggests, we stay busy, get active, and try to do things that feel more tangible and useful than just sitting or being.  I know I do it - I clean and alphabetize and organize when I am really anxious or stressed.  After Jesus' death and burial, the women stayed busy gathering spices and clothes to take to Jesus' tomb instead of sitting with the disciples in the Upper Room.  But we can't run from our limitations forever; we can't stave off the feelings of dependence or need; we can't cover over our brokenness with wrappings of productivity and busyness.

Sooner or later, those feelings cause us to slow our sometimes chaotic pace of life down enough to rest.  Whether our pace slows or we are brought to a downright halt by a tragic loss or fresh grief, it brings us face to face with some tough realities of life.  But the great gift of these moments is that we don't have to face them alone - in fact, we weren't created to face them alone.  It doesn't take away the pain, fix the grief, or magically make things all better  but it can open our hearts to see the reality of the resurrection and the power of grace.  This week, one of the beloved saints of Orange UMC passed away.  I got to meet Ronnie Maddry, and see the outpouring of unconditional love his whole family had for him.  I got to see small glimpses of an amazing legacy far bigger than I can even imagine.  And I also got to see glimpses of a family beginning a new journey through grieving the loss of a father, husband, family member, and friend.

The great gift and challenge of this journey in ministry is that I have gotten to enter in to this messiness called life together with people I now love.  My heart hurts for and with the Maddry family, and my prayers are with them all.  But next to that heaviness, there is this lightness and joy tangled right up in the web - and it is the sheer gift it is to know this family, to have been invited to be a small part in their journeys, and to be taught a little more about grace, love, and faith.  It is comfortably hard to be compassionate for this beloved family, and for all those at Orange.  Hard because the realities of human brokenness and loss are heavy, but also comfortable because doing life this way just feels right and entering in to those deep places of love and life bring me face to face with the reality and hope of the grace-filled resurrection!